


lying is an exercise we call true

by anorchidisnotaflower



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post s4e06, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:40:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27333547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anorchidisnotaflower/pseuds/anorchidisnotaflower
Summary: Odis has only gotten this far by being a good detective, a damn good one sometimes, and he can read people when he needs to. Deafy is a weird kettle of fish and an even weirder book to read, but Odis is starting to learn the language.Odis Weff is a liar. "Deafy" Wickware is an honest man.It's never as simple as that.
Relationships: Dick "Deafy" Wickware/Odis Weff
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	lying is an exercise we call true

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks, as with all these fics, to our little Discord group and the tiny fandom we've formed.
> 
> This fic will probably be rendered an AU by tonight, but I had to post this before s4e07 aired.

Odis Weff’s heart is a dodgy thing— always betraying him, beating too hard and too fast and leading him into dangerous rooms with dangerous men.

All of the voices he’s heard today overlap in his head, yelling at one another: “You’ve got until 2:30 to find my brother.” “You’re gonna help me win this war or I’m gonna put you in the ground.” “Bring you in dead or alive.” “I ain’t asking.”

Shit, shit, shit, he chants back, climbing into his car. Four, five, six and he’s pulling out of the Faddas’ driveway, not sure where he’s headed. He just needs to get out of here, try to plan a way out of this mess.

But the further Odis drives, the more he knows, knows like his tiny apartment layout, knows like the quickest routes through the Kansas City streets, that there’s no way out. His life ends at 2:30 this afternoon, or maybe later, but it’s ending fast, the tunnel narrowing to a blip and leaving him as he always was— alone and afraid.

He pulls into the back lot of the police station, stops the car, and bangs one hand on the steering wheel. “Shit!”

It doesn’t make him feel any better. Slamming both hands on the steering wheel just hurts more, and he needs something, anything to drag himself out of this, one little Indian, two little Indians, just one clear sign, three little Indians, that he’s not just walking to his death, four little Indians, five—

A tapping at his window. Five knocks, clear and even.

Odis jumps a foot in the air, looking out the window to lock eyes with Deafy Wickware.

“Shit,” he whispers.

Deafy waves at him. “Hey, compadre. Mind if I join you?”

Odis doesn’t even get a chance to reply before Deafy strolls around to the passenger seat, getting in the car like he belongs there.

“Figured we needed to talk,” Deafy sighs, leaning back in the seat. Odis’ hands are up like he’s being arrested, his fingers twitching.

“About?” Odis manages to say.

Deafy shrugs. “Oh, this and that.” He side-eyes Odis, his careful grin falling, and Odis feels more exposed than he has in a long time.

“You… you know something,” Odis says. “Spit it out.”

Deafy raises both eyebrows. “I think you should be the one telling me about these little rendezvous of yours.”

Odis frowns, his hands falling to his sides to tap away. “R-Rendezvous? Where?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, detective.” Deafy’s slouched in his seat, but his eyes are bright, reflecting the light from the late afternoon sun. “I know about the Faddas. The Cannons.”

Odis closes his eyes. One, two, three, four, five, one, two, three—

“Hey. Don’t tune me out. That’s my thing,” Deafy interrupts.

“I wasn’t—” Odis sighs. “What do you know, exactly?”

“I know you’ve been seeing both of them as of late,” Deafy says. “Playing both sides, is that your game?”

Odis laughs, and the sound surprises both of them, bouncing harsh and uneven around the car. “Game. Yeah, I’m playing a game all right. And I’m losing.”

“Deal gone wrong?”

“Deal!” Odis laughs again. “Look at me, marshal. Really look. Missed something?”

Deafy looks at him for a moment and frowns. “What happened to—”

“My face?” Odis finishes. “Yeah. Maybe you should’ve asked the right questions first.”

There’s momentary silence, save for the faint leather tapping of Odis’ fingers against each other. Deafy’s eyes stay locked on him, his head tilted to one side.

“You didn’t choose,” Deafy says.

“Just figuring that out now,” Odis mutters. “I thought you were better at this.”

“Weren’t we supposed to be partners?” Deafy gestures between them. “And I’m not a detective by trade, so we need to work together. I couldn’t have figured it out on my own.”

“You damn well tried to.”

“And you handed me the rest of the clues on a silver platter,” Deafy says, sitting up. “Now, I know you probably haven’t had the best day—”

Odis rolls his eyes at that, big and exaggerated for Deafy’s benefit.

“—but we need to work together,” Deafy continues. “And we can’t do that until you tell me the God’s honest truth.”

“As God is my witness, huh,” Odis says, shaking his head.

Deafy reaches one hand across the dash and places it on the wheel— near enough to Odis that the intention is clear. Odis blinks, startled that Deafy even remembered he hated being touched.

“Odis,” Deafy says, voice strangely quiet. “I won’t turn you in. As God is  _ my _ witness. Just tell me what happened, and we’ll sort it from there.”

There’s something odd in Deafy’s eyes, in the way he’s holding himself, that Odis spots immediately. The eyes softened by the glow of not-quite afternoon, the hand on the wheel relaxed and compliant, Deafy’s entire body angled to him, open and unafraid.

Odis has only gotten this far by being a good detective, a damn good one sometimes, and he can read people when he needs to. Deafy is a weird kettle of fish and an even weirder book to read, but Odis is starting to learn the language.

And if Odis is reading him right, there’s something Deafy won’t tell him. Something Deafy won’t tell himself, either.

Time enough to play those cards later.

“Fine. I’ll tell you,” Odis says, and Deafy smiles, big and unabashed.

“Well, what’s the story?” Deafy asks, slapping the wheel once before leaning back, out of Odis’ space.

“I’m stuck,” Odis starts.

“Rock and a hard place?”

“You could say that.” Odis taps, thinking. “The Faddas want me to find their man Gaetano. The Cannons have him under lock and key, and they want me to grab their boy from the Faddas.”

Deafy nods along.

“Both sides think I’m working for them,” Odis continues, “and both sides are threatening me with death.”

Deafy whistles. “About what I expected, but still rough.”

“Thanks very much,” Odis says, managing to crack a smile. “And then there’s you.”

“Me?” Deafy grins, all-too pleased.

“You’re persistent as all hell. Not exactly helpful for a man stuck in the pockets of the two biggest crime families in Kansas City.”

“Not exactly,” Deafy echoes, but that damned smile is still on his face. There’s something in it, if only Odis can gather a few more pieces of evidence, a few more clues to the thing Deafy is hiding away.

“So what would you do?” Odis asks. “If you were me.”

“If I were you, I’d have quit my job a long time ago,” Deafy says.

“You’re a marshal, aren’t you? Isn’t that worse than what I’m dealing with here?”

“Worse in some respects,” Deafy shrugs. “Better in others. I get to leave town often as I like. You’re stuck to the same few streets.”

“Kansas City’s a lot bigger than that, but fair enough,” Odis says, looking out the window. The lot’s full, but no one’s around— it’s a cloudy afternoon, but the sun behind the clouds is that too-bright quality that makes his head ache.

“I don’t see a suitcase, though.” Deafy peers into the backseat, a bit exaggerated. “Not planning on skipping town?”

“I can’t leave,” Odis admits. “My whole life’s here.”

“Not much of a life,” Deafy says, and the air in the car goes still. Odis watches Deafy out of the corner of his eye, watches his face fall as he realizes what he’s said.

“Shoot, Odis, I didn’t mean—”

Odis laughs. It’s desperate, and a little too strained, but it’s the most genuinely he’s laughed in ages. Deafy blinks at him before his mouth cracks into his usual smile, and he hesitantly laughs along with him. The sounds don’t mix well, exactly, but it’s honest.

“You’re right,” Odis chuckles, shaking his head. “Not much of a life at all. But it’s what I’ve got.”

“Amen to that,” Deafy says, tipping his hat.

“You sound like you know the feeling well, pastor.” Odis keeps his eyes on Deafy’s hands, waiting to see if he’ll twitch under the scrutiny.

Deafy huffs, but his left thumb rubs at his ring finger. “Can’t say I do.”

“Really?” Odis presses. “Happy family back at home, I’m assuming.”

“Yep,” Deafy says, dragging the word out to pop on the last letter.

And there it is again— that strangeness, the pieces starting to fall into place. Odis adds it all up, one by one: the odd looks, the body language, the lone wolf way Deafy’s been traveling around. The ring on his left hand, the one he keeps messing with.

All of it adds up to a solution that Odis should have seen coming, knowing his luck.

“You’re not married,” Odis blurts out.

Deafy goes still, turning his head to look at Odis. “What?”

Now that he’s started, Odis can’t stop, the words spilling out of him. “Your ring. It’s not yours. It doesn’t fit right. Otherwise, you wouldn’t keep messing with it.”

Deafy shakes his head, a smile on his face, but it’s strained, Odis can see that now. “I have no idea what you’re saying, detective. Can’t hear you.”

“You’ve never said anything about your wife,” Odis continues.

“Was I supposed to?” Deafy drops the act, his glare careful and directed right at Odis.

“No, but—” Odis sighs, fingers twitching. “You’re strange. Nothing adds up except for this.”

Deafy’s smile is still on his face, and it’s balanced on a knife’s edge. “And why were you trying to figure me out, Odis?”

Odis grins back, finally feeling the tables start to turn in his favor. “You did the same to me. How does it feel, marshal?”

Deafy just stares at him for a moment, and the last piece falls into place— U.S. Marshal “Deafy” Wickware is a dangerous man. And though Odis didn’t invite him in, he’s stuck in a car with him, and once again Odis has put his life in the air, praying it comes back down to him.

“You,” Deafy starts, “are an interesting man.”

“I try to be,” Odis says.

Deafy squints at him, and then just as abruptly as he appeared, he opens the car door, stepping out into the parking lot.

It takes Odis a minute more to get out to follow him, clicking the car lock an extra five times for good measure. Deafy hasn’t moved far away— just stepped out to lean against the car, munching away on those carrots of his.

Odis leans against the car next to him, watching and waiting. Deafy doesn’t offer him a carrot.

“If I talk,” Deafy says around a mouthful, “will you make a deal with me?”

Odis taps his fingers, once, twice, three times, four, five. “What sort of deal?”

“I help you with your… situation,” Deafy says, drawing out the word. “We work together as partners. No more secrets.”

Odis raises an eyebrow. “None at all? We don’t know each other too well, do we?”

“I’ll be honest with you, Odis,” Deafy says, turning to make eye contact. “You already know me better than most.”

Odis huffs, looking away. Even now, the eye contact is a bit too much, knowing exactly what Deafy will tell him before he does. But he can still feel Deafy’s eyes on him, the sensation of being over-exposed lingering, even now when Odis is the one with the upper hand.

“Fine,” Odis says. “Deal.”

“You got any more secrets, then?” Deafy asks, tilting his head. “Anything else I should know about these Faddas and Cannons of yours?”

“Not mine,” Odis points out. “And none I can think of.”

Deafy frowns. “What’s the timeline here, then? Two families all of a sudden drag you into their mess?”

Odis chants quietly in his head before he answers. “The Faddas have had me under their thumbs for years. Paid off. The Cannons are… newer. And they’re not paying.”

Deafy nods. “All righty. Forgetting something else?”

Odis sighs. “I’m not trying to lie to you, you know.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“What’s the big secret you’re not telling me, then?” Odis asks, moving off the car to face Deafy head-on. “You running a corrupt scheme out of Salt Lake City? Your wife is a cover story for your many illicit affairs?”

“I don’t—” Deafy sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have a wife. You were right.”

Odis taps, waiting.

Deafy lets go of his nose, tilting his head back to look at the clouds. “That’s it.”

Odis frowns. “That’s it?”

“What, were you expecting worse?” Deafy asks, managing a half-smile.

“The ring, what about—”

“Got it from my daddy,” Deafy says, his left thumb moving the ring around on his fingers. “Well, stole it, really. Took it off him once he croaked and before they buried him in the ground.”

“Why?” It’s the only question Odis can think of asking.

“Why does anyone do anything?” Deafy says, still not looking Odis in the eye. “I  _ am _ a pastor. That’s the God’s honest truth. But… shoot.”

Odis looks Deafy over, once, twice, five times in quick succession. “You’ve never told anyone this.”

“The detective strikes again.” Deafy takes a bite of a carrot, the last one in his handkerchief. “It’s embarrassing.”

“You want to talk to me about embarrassing?” Odis asks, a fraught little smile skirting the edges of his mouth.

Deafy laughs, small. “All right. I didn’t want to get married. No interest. The end, close the book.”

“That’s not embarrassing,” Odis says, blinking.

“Could’ve fooled me.” Deafy sticks his handkerchief back into his coat, finally looking up to meet Odis’ stare. “You didn’t grow up Mormon, did you?”

Odis just looks at him.

“It was a rhetorical question.” Deafy sticks his hands in his pockets, hiding the ring, the twitch Odis can spot in his fingers a mile away. “I know you wouldn’t get it.”

“Try me.”

Deafy looks off past the station building, watching the cars swish by on the slush-covered streets. “There isn’t a choice. You get married. That’s the end-all, be-all. And I had no intentions of following that, much as I wanted to.”

“So you settled?” Odis takes a small step closer, if only to hear Deafy’s quiet voice over the traffic hum.

“Settled.” Deafy hums. “Suppose you could call it that. U.S. Marshal was what I had my sights set on, and I was darn well ready to be shot if I didn’t get to do just that. Becoming a pastor was just to please the family.”

“Do you… like being Mormon?”

Deafy laughs, his eyes sparkling from the light bouncing off the snow. “Sure, I do. The Lord has always been a helping hand. Being at home is the hard part.”

“Now there’s something I understand,” Odis snorts, but it comes out quieter than he expected. A bit too true.

They’re silent a while, listening to the traffic move idly by. Odis steals glances, and Deafy steals them right back.

“We’re a right pair, aren’t we?” Deafy says. There’s no height difference between them, but the hat lends Deafy an extra few inches, throwing parts of his face into shadow even in the afternoon light.

“That’s one way to put it,” Odis replies.

“So, give me the verdict. Was that enough truth for you?”

“Enough for today and then some,” Odis smiles, moving around to the driver’s seat. “I think we can get moving on this plan of yours.”

“Thank you kindly,” Deafy says, and there’s a smile on his face, too, one that Odis still sees something strange in, something he can’t identify. They’ve laid the truth out on the table, just the two of them, but there’s an extra depth Odis can’t grasp, a layer of ice under snow that you don’t expect until you’re already falling.

Then the car door shuts behind him, and Odis banishes the thoughts for later. He has worse things to fuss over.

“They’re meeting at some warehouse on the other side of town,” Odis says. “Three o’clock. I have to be there by 2:30 with the Faddas’ man in tow or I’m a goner.”

“I reckon we can’t go in there with the full force of the police, hm?” Deafy muses, getting settled back in the passenger’s seat.

Odis scoffs. “Not if you want to get me killed quicker than you can say, ‘Boo.’”

“Boo!”

Odis doesn’t even jump.

“Okay, okay, bad joke,” Deafy mutters. “So we go in ourselves at three.”

Odis frowns. “The two of us?”

“We’d have back-up on hand, of course,” Deafy says. “Hiding out somewhere. They’d gather on our signal or our deaths, whichever comes first.”

“Very reassuring,” Odis sighs. “What about—”

“The 2:30 meeting? Skip it,” Deafy says, waving his hand.

“Are you crazy?” Odis shifts in his seat to face Deafy, his hands spread. “They’ll come after me before the meeting even goes through. They have plenty of time.”

“Not,” Deafy starts, raising one finger, “if you’re already at the designated meeting place.”

Odis blinks. “We’re going to lie in wait?”

“Sure,” Deafy laughs. “That, or we’ll just storm ‘em. Catch them off-guard and sweep your problems away.”

“This is so stupid,” Odis breathes, looking out the windshield.

“Not stupid. Unexpected.”

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“Look,” Deafy says, meeting Odis’ stare with one of his own. “Do you want my help or not?”

Odis lets the silence draw out for as long as he can stand it, but Deafy has bottomless patience, he’ll give him that.

“Yes,” Odis admits.

Deafy smiles, quicksilver and flashy. “Wonderful. Then we’ll figure it out as we go.”

Odis nods, but he’s running through rhymes under his breath, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. He knows this will end poorly, he just knows, but if he can get this right, if he can get this right—

“Hey,” Deafy interrupts. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Remind me.”

Deafy shakes his head, but he leans in, that conspiratorial little glint in his eye. “What do you say, cowboy? Want to go in, guns blazing? Take ‘em down together?”

And Odis can’t say no to that.

* * *

Three o’clock rolls around and Odis hasn’t stopped counting once since 2:30 chimed. Deafy didn’t seem to mind much— he was focused on lookout, peering through a pair of binoculars and crunching away on those carrots of his. They had to pick up more on the way, and Odis was forced to wait in the car while Deafy ran into the local grocer’s.

It wasn’t the most ridiculous thing Odis has ever been a part of, but it’s up there.

They sped over to the warehouse shortly after, abandoning Odis’ car out front before running off. Deafy’s car wasn’t parked too far away, and that’s where they sat now, hidden a block or so away with clear sights on the door.

The rumbling of tire tracks startles Odis out of his tapping, and he looks out the snowy windshield from the passenger seat. The Faddas’ many cars pull up to the warehouse, right alongside his empty car.

“All according to plan,” Deafy murmurs, the binoculars still glued to his face.

Odis doesn’t say anything— afraid someone might overhear, as far away as they are. Deafy’s car is even covered with snow, muffling them further, but there’s still that niggling doubt, always rearing its ugly head.

He spots Josto stomp up to the empty car, his arms waving around frantically at the men surrounding him.

Deafy chuckles. “Little fella doesn’t look happy.”

Odis huffs. “I’m dead.”

“Not yet, you’re not.”

“That really helps. Thanks,” Odis says, glaring at Deafy out of the corner of his eye.

“Anytime, partner.” Deafy takes another loud crunch of carrot, and Odis tries not to flinch.

The Faddas file into the warehouse, one after the other, and the lot is empty, snow falling in quiet, infrequent flurries.

“Now?” Odis asks.

Deafy just shakes his head, slow. “Wait.”

Odis frowns, peering out the window. The Cannons must already be inside since their cars are nowhere to be seen. Unless they’re still on their way, leaving the Faddas to stew a while, but wasn’t this one of the Cannons’ warehouses? Odis can’t keep track of them anymore, onetwothreefourfive, and besides, what the hell is Deafy not telling—

A shot rings out, one they can hear even this far away in a snow-covered car.

Then more shots.

“Bingo,” Deafy says, clicking his tongue.

“We sending the signal to back-up?” Odis asks, but Deafy is already pulling out his radio.

“Shots fired on the corner of 12 th and James. Inbound and requesting back-up, all cars,” Deafy says, Odis silent beside him.

“Roger that,” the dispatcher chimes in, and then they’re off, out of the car and guns in hand.

Odis can’t help the tremble down his arms, the inevitable stutter and shake of his heart as they walk toward the doors of the warehouse. It’s like all his options are falling away, quick as cards, and those doors are the last thing he has left, the only way through.

But then he glances over to see Deafy right beside him, and the options expand, just that slightest bit.

Right as they reach the door, Deafy leans in, close enough to whisper but too far to touch.

“I got your back,” he says, and Odis nods.

And with that, Deafy fires a kick at the door, sending it sprawling open.

They’re met with a cacophony of sound, the muffled bullets they heard outside turning to sharp bangs in their ears. Ducking down, Odis spots the Cannons on the far side of the warehouse— or, really, spots the ends of their guns. The Faddas are much the same closer to the entrance, firing back with as much gusto as they’re getting.

Deafy’s ducked down with him, scooting toward a rather convenient stack of crates close by. Odis follows, flinching at every bullet fire, every ping of a ricochet.

“When is your backup getting here?” Odis yells over the noise.

Deafy just shrugs, back to the crates. “Sometime. Let’s get a few shots in before then.”

With a grin, he peeks out of their hiding spot, firing two shots into the fray. One of them must hit because when Deafy reappears, he looks more pleased than when he turned away.

Odis’ gun hand is shaking. He pokes his head up before just as quickly ducking down again, the bullets reminding him of explosions which reminds him of things he can’t think about, things that keep him awake and things he thought he’d buried—

“Odis.” Deafy’s voice cuts through the fog, his eyes fixed on Odis’.

Odis nods. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

And with a deep breath, Odis sticks his arm out from behind the crates and fires a shot.

It doesn’t hit, but Deafy lets out a loud whoop anyway, and suddenly things feel a little less chaotic, a little more under control. They fire again a few times each, Deafy aiming for shallow shots, Odis aiming for cover. It’s not the worst shoot-out Odis has ever been in.

The noise dies down quicker than expected, few staying in their hiding spots while others turn tail and run. Odis watches it all, still careful to stick to the crates, trying to count up the number of arrests they’ll need to make, the bodies that need to be dragged out.

“Think we’re clear?” Deafy whispers.

Odis shrugs. “It’s never clear when you think it is.”

Deafy nods. “Let’s move a little closer in. Start some arrests.”

Odis blinks, turning to look at Deafy. “Did you hear a word I said?”

But Deafy’s already moving away. Odis curses under his breath.

“Your stupid nickname,” Odis mutters, before raising his voice to a loud whisper. “Get back here! Hey!”

“I got it,” Deafy says. “C’mon. Watch my back.”

And of course Odis follows close behind, sighing as he does the whole way. There’s one shot, one, and he jumps, but Deafy just laughs, looking back at him.

“We’ll be fine.” Deafy waggles his gun hand. “We’re armed and dangerous.”

Odis rolls his eyes. “Be careful, all right?”

Deafy grins. “No promises.” He peeks out behind the crates, and, with a spring in his step, moves toward the next pile, keeping low to the ground.

Odis keeps an eye out, his gun shaky but locked in his hand. Deafy makes it in one piece, and for a moment, Odis breathes again. Deafy straightens up a bit, that damned smile stuck to his face.

“You’re such a—”

Odis hears the shot but sees Deafy stumble first, his left leg angled strange. He looks down at it, his face blank, and Odis can’t move, can’t think.

“Aw, hell,” Deafy mumbles, and then he starts to fall.

Odis is there in a blink he didn’t take and catches Deafy before he hits the ground, his arms wrapped tight and messy around Deafy’s torso. Odis drags him behind a cluster of barrels, furious that Deafy hadn’t hidden well enough, hadn’t ducked all the way behind when he should have, and now there are shots ringing out around them like bells again, and his arms are still around Deafy and it’s not the worst thing in the world.

Odis keeps his eyes on Deafy’s face, avoiding the blood soaking his leg, and watches for any closing eyes, pale skin. Deafy looks like shit, frankly, but at least he’s still up and at it.

“My knee,” he curses, “they got my damn knee.”

“Never heard you swear before,” Odis says. Why the hell did he say that?

Deafy looks up at Odis, incredulous. “Will you shut up and shoot?”

Odis rolls his eyes, but he obliges, peeking up over the stack and quickly dodging another shot. From the looks of things, most folks in the warehouse are already dead— now is a matter of getting out alive.

“We need to move,” Odis says. “Hold onto me.”

Deafy blinks. “You’ll let me?”

Odis looks back at him, a little smile sneaking onto his face. “Of course. I trust you, all right?”

Deafy just nods. Odis hoists him up carefully, both of them ducked down to avoid any more gunfire. The noise has quieted again, but the stillness is no better than the noise, they know that now, and the door is further away than Odis would like.

Deafy’s arm finds its way around Odis’ shoulder, and the warm weight of it makes Odis pause for a moment, remembering Deafy’s hand on his shoulder just days ago.

“Ready, partner?” Deafy asks, a thin smile on his face.

“As I’ll ever be,” Odis huffs.

Then they’re off, hobbling to the door as quickly as they can while Odis keeps his eyes and his gun out, waiting to hear the inevitable. There’s nothing at first, gunfire growing more distant as they move, the front door almost within reach when Odis looks in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He makes eye contact with a man on the ground — what he thinks is a corpse — and everything stops. The man’s face is hidden with blood, and he’s almost unrecognizable, but he raises his gun to point right at Odis. His hand doesn’t waver, nor shake, but Odis’ does.

Odis prays for the first time in his life, sincerely, that at least Deafy makes it out alive.

Odis fires first, and the man slumps before he can shoot. Dead, or at least on the way there quicker than before.

Odis has never shot first. Odis has never shot first, but Deafy’s alive, and Odis has never shot first, one, and Deafy’s still here, and they’re both alive, two, three, and his hand is shaking, fourfive, onetwothreefour, five, Odis is—

Deafy shakes Odis, his hand on his arm. “Palomino. You got him.”

Four words give Odis the strength to nod, to drag them the rest of the way out into the cold sunlight, and right into the welcoming arms of the police.

“He’s with me,” Odis says to whoever, but he doesn’t need to.

Deafy smiles his way regardless. This close, Odis notices the laughter lines at the corners of Deafy’s mouth, the way his eyes reflect the snow, and he feels something leap in his chest. He starts to open his mouth, to explain, maybe, or admit some truth he didn’t realize until now, but Deafy silences him with a look— one that says, more than anything, “thank you.”

That’s all the time they have before Deafy’s off on a stretcher, dragged to an ambulance in a whirlwind Odis can’t follow. His hands feel empty, and though he’s supposed to be the one in charge here, he looks in the faces of each passing officer, trying to ask them what he’s supposed to do, where he’s supposed to go.

The crowd just moves around him, Faddas and Cannons alike loaded into police cars, bodies covered in sheets left in rows on the gravel. Odis stands, his left hand tapping against his side while his right hand tightens and relaxes on his gun. It still feels a little warm, but maybe he’s imagining that.

He’s watching the police cars start, instead of whoever else the cops are dragging out of the warehouse, when he hears someone shout his name. Odis walks over to the ambulance, spotting Deafy’s head peeking up from the stretcher.

“Get in here,” Deafy calls.

Odis frowns. “I— I have to—” He gestures behind him at the mess.

Deafy only has to raise an eyebrow, just one, and Odis is climbing in, pardoning his way past the nurses to perch next to Deafy’s head.

Deafy grins. “Pushover.”

Odis scowls. “Bastard.”

The doors shut behind them, and they’re on their way, the siren above them silent and still.

* * *

The hospital discharges Deafy in a matter of hours, his knee bandaged as he hobbles to Odis in the waiting room.

Odis is up in a second, his hands on Deafy’s elbows to stop him. “Sit down. Sit down.”

“I’m fine, partner,” Deafy says, but he follows Odis anyway, sitting down in the closest waiting room chair with a sigh. He stretches out his bandaged leg and closes his eyes. Odis sits next to him and checks him over for any further damage, any signs of fever or distress.

Deafy just looks exhausted.

“Long day, huh?” Deafy says, peering at Odis out of the corner of his eye.

Odis looks down at his own rumpled shirt, the rolled-up sleeves and nail marks in his palms. “Yeah, well. They had me waiting a while here. Wouldn’t let me through.”

“Not family.” Deafy pinches the bridge of his nose. “Could’ve used a friend in there, though. Those doctors had my head spinning.”

Odis huffs. “We’re friends now?”

“Well, praise be, I hope so,” Deafy laughs. He looks a little better, color returning to his cheeks.

Odis half-smiles, tapping on his thigh. “What’s the damage?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Deafy glances down at the bandages, and Odis can spot the wince he tries to cover up. “Doc says there might be nerve damage, but it was just a graze. Should be healed in a couple weeks. I got lucky.”

“I’m the lucky one,” Odis mutters. “You got shot.”

“And those other folks got shot a lot worse than me.”

“Fair point.” Odis taps, quick, preparing himself to say what he’s been planning for hours now. “Can I—”

“What?” Deafy has to interrupt, his eyes fixed on Odis. He always has that look, like headlights, and it still makes Odis want to look away as much as he wants to stare right back.

Odis sighs. “Can I call you Richard?”

“Sure. Why?” Deafy tilts his head.

“Feels strange to call you anything else,” Odis says. “That’s not my only question.”

Deafy’s mouth quirks up at the corner. “Lots of questions from you today.”

“Where are you staying?”

Deafy whistles. “Rather presumptuous to ask, isn’t it?”

“It’s not—” Odis clenches his fist. “You’re injured. Where are you staying?”

“Little motel on the outskirts,” Deafy admits. “I should be fine to get myself over there, though I wouldn’t mind a drive over.”

“That’s— that’s the thing,” Odis says. “I’m not letting you go off on your own.”

Deafy raises an eyebrow.

“Stay at my place,” Odis says in a rush of air. “You can’t get around on that leg for at least two weeks, and you need to rest.”

Deafy chuckles. “Rest? I’ll keep off it a day and be back on my feet in no time. These cases of ours don’t solve themselves, and I’ll remind you I still have two fugitives on the run out there.”

“Richard,” Odis says, quiet. “I’m serious.”

“And I know myself. I can’t just sit around and wait while—”

“Richard.” There’s a dangerous edge to Odis’ voice, one he barely recognizes in himself, and Deafy’s mouth snaps shut.

“Listen to me,” Odis says, leaning in. “You are not leaving on your own again. That’s the last time you pull a stunt like that on my watch, and I’m making it up to you by letting you stay at my place. I’m keeping an eye until you’re healed, and then you can do whatever the hell you like. Go back to Salt Lake for all I care.”

Deafy blinks. Odis notices the threads on Deafy’s tie, too close, and that’s when he startles back into his seat, breaking eye contact.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” Deafy says, and he sounds a little stunned.

“Again,” Odis corrects.

“Again.”

Odis can feel Deafy’s eyes on him, a weight he can’t duck under. “You ready to go?”

Deafy sighs, sitting up. “Ready as I’ll ever be. Where to, Nurse Weff?”

Odis looks up to the ceiling, silently asking for patience, and Deafy just laughs, a summer sound in the middle of the Missouri winter night.

* * *

It’s more than a struggle up the dark apartment stairs, but they manage, Deafy’s arm once again slung over Odis’ shoulders. He doesn’t say anything when Odis knocks at his door, and for that, Odis is more grateful than he is for anything else.

“Here,” Odis says once they’re inside, guiding Deafy over to the little sofa. Deafy drops down with a weary sigh, tilting his head to rest on the back of the couch.

“I’ll get some clean sheets.” Odis turns and digs around in the hall closet, finding a neatly-pressed stack of sheets and blankets at the back.

“I’ll be just fine with a blanket on the couch, Odis.” Deafy’s voice sounds strained, and when Odis looks back, sheets in hand, Deafy’s rubbing his hands down his face.

“I’ll take the couch. Patient gets the bed.” Odis gets to work, tearing the blankets off the bed and replacing them with military efficiency. It’s calming, this sort of housework— not quite a ritual he feels compelled to do, but the sort that provides stability, easy comfort.

“You don’t…” Deafy sighs. “I suppose I can’t argue with you any more than I already have.”

Odis smiles, though Deafy can’t see. “Finally, you’re starting to get it.” He straightens the covers, fluffing the pillows with small, quick hits, and stands back to judge his handiwork, looking for small wrinkles, imperfections.

He looks over at Deafy, who’s still lying back, his eyes closed.

“I shouldn’t offer,” Odis starts.

“Hm?” Deafy cracks one eye open.

Odis just gestures to the bottle of whiskey on his table.

Deafy smiles, a little, before he shakes his head. “Should know better than to offer a Mormon pastor whiskey.”

Odis shrugs. “It’s an easy painkiller. I don’t have much else.”

Deafy closes his eyes again. “I’ll live.”

“Hey,” Odis says, walking over. “Bed’s ready. You can lie down for a while.”

“I…” Deafy trails off. “All right.”

He takes Odis’ outstretched hand, and they fall back into their now-easy rhythm, making quick work of getting Deafy across the room and horizontal. As soon as his head hits the pillow, Deafy is out like a light, and Odis just stands there, staring at Deafy’s boots still on his feet. His boots that are now on top of the fresh sheets Odis just put down.

“Shit,” Odis mutters. “Shit.”

He finally moves, unable to win the argument with himself, and tugs each of Deafy’s boots off, placing them, evenly spaced, next to the end of the bed. Odis hesitates for only a moment before he tugs the blankets up and over Deafy, tucking them in as much as he dares.

Deafy shifts in his sleep, mumbles something. Maybe a “thanks,” or “go away.”

Either way, Odis takes the hint. He grabs another blanket from the closet and curls up on the sofa, flicking off the lights along the way. It’s early in the evening, at least for him, to be heading to sleep. He’s never quite been able to rest at reasonable hours, especially in recent years.

But Deafy was right— it had been a long day, the longest day of Odis’ life. And here he was, lying on his sofa under the thin light of the streetlamps outside, watching the mound of blankets on his bed rise and fall in a slow, even tempo.

As his eyes grow heavier, the back of Odis’ mind twigs— that itch, that sense that Deafy wasn’t telling him everything. The day flickers by behind Odis’ eyelids, each little smile and glance and unsaid word, and that stirring in his chest rustles again, begging for attention.

But they’ve time enough. Odis is still here, in one piece, and Deafy is right there, hurt but alive, breathing, breathing, breathing. Deafy— no, Richard’s in his apartment, at his side, constant and sure-fire. His partner.

And that’s what eases Odis to sleep at last. Sleep comes quick, and tomorrow’s a distant thought.

Tomorrow, they’ll have all the time they’ll ever need.


End file.
